The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy as you wandered into the forest behind your house, its golden beams painting the ground in shifting mosaics of light and shadow. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird were all that accompanied you—until you heard the faint sound of sobbing.

Drawen by the sound, you pushed aside a cluster of low branches and found them. Three women sat together beneath an ancient tree, their beauty softened by sorrow. The middle one, regal despite her simple clothes, rested her hand on a young deer beside her. She was Devyani, once a queen. Her daughters, Anvika and Sharini, clung to her from either side, their faces wet with tears.

They spoke in low voices, unaware of your presence.

“They said if we did not give our bodies to the nobles, we had no place in the palace,” Devyani murmured, her tone trembling between pain and pride. “I chose our dignity over their gold and silk.”

“They took everything from us,” Anvika whispered. “But they will never take who we are.”

Sharini tightened her arms around her mother. “We have each other. That is enough.”

In that moment, they seemed less like exiles and more like queens of their own small kingdom, bound by love stronger than any throne. You stood there silently, your heart heavy, realizing you had stumbled upon not just a tragedy—but a testament to courage.